


i could waste some time (on you)

by zhuzhting



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fluff, M/M, Making Up, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhting/pseuds/zhuzhting
Summary: Zhengting hadn’t thought this through.To be fair, he very rarely thought things through. In most cases, he barely thought at all.His brain, however, was coherent enough, suddenly sober at that moment, and everything was so startlingly clear.He was completely and utterly fucked. Not to mention very embarrassed.or, alternatively, zhengting is a clown (quite literally) and wenjun has many regrets, but falling in love with zhengting isn't one of them





	i could waste some time (on you)

Zhengting hadn’t thought this through.

To be fair, he very rarely thought things through. In most cases, he barely thought at all.

His brain, however, was coherent enough, suddenly sober at that moment, and everything was so startlingly clear.

He was completely and utterly fucked. Not to mention very embarrassed.

“Uh.” The man in front of him said, both hands on a baseball bat which he lowers considerably. “Hi?” Zhengting would like to think he was a threat, but with his red wig and badly painted on face, he was a mild disturbance at most. At best, maybe he could pass off as a sexy clown, but honestly he looked more like a mass of melted crayons.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Zhengting says, and he hates that out of all the people Zeren could’ve roped him into trying to scare, it had to be Wenjun. “I wish I was drunker.”

Wenjun tilts his head to the side and Zhengting isn’t sure why he can still read Wenjun so well but he can and it would be painful if he wasn’t so mortified. “Why are you a clown?”

Zhengting makes a noise at the back of his throat that sounds a lot like dying. “I was dared to scare you. Clowns are scary.” He tugs at the brightly colored pants that now look like they’re sagging in sadness.

“Why me?” A brow quirk and Zhengting wants to fall out the window, because Wenjun really didn’t have the right to look this good while Zhengting looked quite literally like a clown.

“Scorned ex?” Zhengting offers up and when Wenjun’s eyebrow just raises further he wishes he could evaporate. “It seemed like such a good idea at the time ‘haha Zhengting wouldn’t it be funny to scare your ex? Why don’t you break into his apartment and scare him?’” The poor imitation does little to help his case and Zhengting knows he looks more and more like an actual clown with each passing second.

“We broke up a year ago.”

Zhengting bites his lip and tastes the waxy face paint. “Well, I guess some people are just crazy, huh?”

“I guess so.” Wenjun says and it’s more an admonishment of acceptance over anything else. “Do you want to get cleaned up before you leave?”

If Zhengting wasn’t such a bitter bitch he would’ve fallen in love all over again. “Yes please.” He tugs on the colorful, candy printed suit. “I really don’t want to walk back across campus in this.”

“But you walked here in that.”

“Don’t,” Zhengting holds a hand up, memories of being giggly, running across campus with Zeren, and having such a bloated head thinking _wow this is so smart_ floating back into his psyche. “Please don’t mention it.”

“The bathroom is that way.” Wenjun points a thumb behind him, and he still looks dazed, like he can’t actually believe Zhengting was there at the moment. Zhengting can’t say that he doesn’t feel the same.

He walks past Wenjun and it’s something so familiar he kind of wishes he had the balls to just face the embarrassment of having people see him for the clown that he is.

“Yeah, I know where it is.” Zhengting isn’t sure if his mouth is rancid because of the words or all the face paint he had accidentally consumed.

\---

Justin finds it so fucking hilarious he falls to the ground with the force of his laughter. “I can’t believe you did it,” he manages out between hiccupping breaths. “You’re such a clown.”

A pause.

Justin practically breaks his ribs with the force of how he writhes on the ground with wheezes.

Zhengting thinks he might want to break Justin’s ribs himself. “You’re so embarrassing.” He hisses, looking around at all the questioning stares they’re getting from the other café patrons. “Get up.”

“I’m embarrassing?” Justin wipes the literal tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh, boy do I have some news for you.”

“Stop.” Zhengting whines, slamming his face down onto the open book in front of him. Their coffees are served then, with a very pointed stare that makes Zhengting bow his head in apology. “I can’t believe my first conversation with _him_ had to be while I was in a clown costume.”

Wenjun had been kind enough to lend him clothes and, although the pants pooled a little at his ankles and he was practically swimming in the sweater, he was grateful. Besides the clothes were warm and prevented him from walking in the bitter cold in a clown get up. At least all the bitterness was held within because he was wearing stupid Wenjun’s stupid clothes.

“Well, he dated you,” Justin says, gesturing to Zhengting as if that was supposed to explain anything, Zhengting hates to admit that it probably does. “He’s probably used to the clownery by now.”

“ _Dated_.” Zhengting huffs, nose scrunched. “There’s a reason he left the circus behind.”

“And that reason is?”

“I don’t know.” Zhengting shrugs, staring at the heart-shaped cream on the surface of his coffee before swirling it around with a spoon in distaste. Coffee art irked him. “I _am_ the circus.”

“You’re so pathetic,” Justin says not unkindly, mouth now downturned into a frown. He’d known Zhengting longer than he had even known his own name, seen all the ups and downs. Nothing got Zhengting quite as down like the mention of Wenjun did.

Zhengting keeps stirring his coffee, letting the heat seep out of the liquid. “Yeah.” He says. “I am.”

\---

It was something that was bound to happen. The universe liked to laugh at him after all.

Nature was one hell of a bitch. Zhengting wanted to fight every drop of rain. If he had known talking shelter here would lead to this, he would’ve chosen the rain.

“Please tell me I’m dreaming,” Zhengting says lowly, eyes not leaving the cracks on the pavement underneath his feet. Maybe if he begged hard enough, they would open up and swallow him whole.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Zhengting is quick to say. He looks up at the hangar they’re under and groans. “Nothing at all.”

“Well,” Wenjun says, defeated. He collapses back down onto the bench. “We’re going to be stuck here awhile.”

“You forgot your umbrella? You never forget your umbrella.” He never forgot his umbrella. Zhengting gave him that umbrella. Zhengting knows he sounds all too spiteful, realizes the words are too familiar too late. But it was out now and all he could do was watch as that flag of shame waved proverbially in the air.

“Well, I did this time.”

Zhengting scoffs and contemplates the rain for a second. He probably wouldn’t be able to see much through it but on the bright side the rain would beat him hard enough he would no longer feel the sting of Wenjun’s stare.

He’s preparing to make a run for it when fingers encircle his wrist and pull him down. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

It’s a little childish, but anger flares up a little in Zhengting’s chest. “I bet I won’t.”

Wenjun just rolls his eyes, kicks his feet against the ground. “It wouldn’t hurt to wait here until the rain stops.”

Yeah, Zhengting was going to make a run for it.

He’s already pushed himself up when something-or someone-pulls him back down again and his ass is falling down right on top of Wenjun.

He glares down at Wenjun, thinks about elbowing him in the face. “What are you doing?”

“Stop trying to run away.” And there it was, the earnest, open expression that made Zhengting’s stomach coil uncomfortably tight, makes him want to slam his fist against Wenjun’s jaw. It has him giving up faster than he wants to.

“I’ll stop.” Zhengting sags, tries to shrug off the arms holding him still. Desperate, longing, to get out of the touch he wants to bury himself into. “Let go.”

When Wenjun’s arms fall to his sides, Zhengting doesn’t waste any time getting out of his lap, afraid if he stayed longer than he should, he’d end up doing something he shouldn’t.

The silence that hangs over them is as deafening as the rain, and the thunder of words that break it are almost too loud.

“Did you get back okay?”

Zhengting refuses to glance at his side, refuses to acknowledge the stare bearing into the side of his face. “Well, I’m alive,” Zhengting swears he’s trying to be civil. “I’m sorry I forgot to return your clothes.”

He hasn’t really. Forgotten, that is. Wenjun’s clothes were sitting near the foot of his bed, in a paper bag and just waiting to be delivered. But Wenjun doesn’t know that.

Or maybe he does. “It’s okay.” Wenjun’s voice sounds far away somehow, and Zhengting turns to find that his eyes are on the distance. “You can keep them.”

More clothes to add on to the pile left at the bottom dresser drawer, he thinks.

Zhengting shrugs, eyes on the floor and listening to the rhythmic thrum of the rain.

“How have you been?” Wenjun is looking at him, he knows it, and he refuses to look back.

“I’ve been-I’m-fine.” Zhengting has never been good at speaking. Words often slamming into each other on the way out of his mouth. Wenjun used to ruffle his hair and call it cute. “I’m doing fine.”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay,” says Wenjun with a shrug of his shoulders, eyes up at the partial roof above their heads. “I’m better now, I guess.”

“That’s great.” Zhengting knows he sound dull. He just knows it. But dull is better than angry, he surmises. Angry would mean he cares.

“You know what?” He says then and he can already feel the muscles in his legs coiling in anticipation, ready. He glances at Wenjun again and meets his eyes, seeing them go wide, not realizing in time that Zhengting’s palms are already launching himself up and out of his seat. “This really isn’t worth not getting a cold.”

“I hope we don’t run into each other again!” Zhengting yells back as the sight of Wenjun still sitting there get lost in the rain. It’s the rain that hides the hiccup in his voice and the prickling of tears.

“Better, huh.” He mutters under his breath and he forces his legs to move faster, to push against the ground harder. “At least one of us is.”

Zhengting yells into the loudness of the storm.

\---

“Justin told me you were sick.” Linong rushes to Zhengting’s bedside at the sight of him pathetically sniffling, his cheeks red and eyes puffed. He grabs one of Zhengting’s hands, squeezing it almost painfully, still unaware of his own strength. “I can’t believe you ran home in the rain. If you told me I would’ve picked you up.”

Linong looked so terribly sad and disappointed in himself, it made Zhengting sad and disappointed in himself too. Zhengting sighs. “The rain was really strong. An umbrella wouldn’t have been enough.”

“But still,” Linong looks down dejectedly.

Zhengting points to the bag in Linong’s hand instead, unable to take the full force of his sad eyes any longer. “What’s that?”

Linong brightens up immediately and it’s like the sun suddenly appearing from behind clouds. “I made you some soup.” He opens it up and takes the contents out with one hand, obviously struggling but refusing to let go of Zhengting. “Wenjun helped.”

Zhengting lets out a shocked exhale at the words and Linong snaps his head around to look at him when he realizes. “I’m sorry.” He says, looking like he’s about to cry.

“It’s okay.” Zhengting says, patting the crown of Linong’s head comfortingly. “It’s not your fault he’s my ex.”

His friends sometimes acted as if there had been a custody battle between the two of them, like they couldn’t be friends with both. Justin writing _to: asshole_ on the birthday gift he left on Wenjun’s doorstep and Quanzhe running towards Zhengting one day while crying about how he didn’t miss him at all.

It made everything so much worse and Zhengting felt all the more bitter for it.

Linong opens up the thermos containing hot and sour soup because of course, it was hot and sour soup. Wenjun didn’t know how to make any other soups.

“I promise I made most of it.” Linong pours the soup with much care, not noticing how Zhengting rolls his eyes. “It’s not contaminated with his germs I swear.”

“Thank you for making sure I’m not going to be contaminated.” Zhengting says, smiling in spite of himself. “And thank you for the soup.”

Linong beams at him and Zhengting pretends like it isn’t hard to swallow.

\---

“Look I don’t want to seem too mean but I really wish you would go away so I don’t have to see your perfect face ever again.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re doing not sick anymore.” Wenjun laughs at the sound of Zhengting’s voice muffled on the table, his eyes buried in his arms. Still, Zhengting could hear the sound of the chair being pulled back so that Wenjun could sit and he groans.

“Yeah. Well, now I feel like throwing up.” Zhengting knows he’s being purposefully childish, the words _I’m better now, I guess_ echo in his head like a broken record. That and exams had taken the toll on him the whole week so he just really wasn’t in the mood. “Please leave.”

Wenjun lets out a sigh and Zhengting tries not to rejoice at the thought of him walking away. _It wouldn’t be the first time,_ he thinks.

“We need to talk,” Wenjun says instead and Zhengting can already feel the emotional constipation deep in his stomach. “About things.”

Zhengting looks up, lets his eyes glare daggers at Wenjun. Avoiding all forms of emotional contact was definitely in his best interest at the moment. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nope. Not a thing.”

“Remember when you broke into my apartment wearing a clown costume?” Wenjun has a stupid dumb smile on his face and Zhengting hates that his heart does a stupid dumb thing in his chest.

“I don’t recall.” He says hollowly.

“Yeah, well, I do.” Wenjun leans forward a little conspiratorially. “I miss you.”

“Oh god.” Zhengting buries his eyes in his arms again. This wasn’t something he had accounted for and he really didn’t like it. “Please go away.”

“Zhengting.”

Zhengting hates that he can’t help but look up at the sound of his name. Wenjun is looking at him seriously now, the intensity in his eyes stopping the snide remark that Zhengting was about to let slip out in its tracks. “I was lying when I said I was better.” He takes a breath. “I miss you.”

“Then you should stop missing me. I’m very unmissable.” Out of all the things that have come out of Wenjun’s mouth. The two most devastation ones have been _let’s break up_ and _I miss you_. Zhengting wants to die. “The clown thing was dumb I shouldn’t have done that. I was drunk and I get extra dumb when I’m drunk.”

Wenjun reaches over then, hand brushing over Zhengting’s forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He says, and Zhengting flinches away.

“You broke up with me, Wenjun.” Zhengting clenches and unclenches his fist. Peaceful thoughts, he chastises himself. Peaceful thoughts that don’t involve jumping Wenjun, either violently or not-so-violently. “I hope that’s clear to you.”

“We weren’t good for each other.” Wenjun bites his lip. “At least I thought we weren’t.”

“And why, pray tell, did you ever fucking think that?” Zhengting smiles, voice too saccharine to be calm.

“I was holding you back.” Wenjun has his face tilted down at the table, shame in his voice and his hair a veil over his eyes. “You were going to go to Korea to dance and you decided to stay here because of me.”

“You’re not that special, Wenjun.” He was, but Zhengting wasn’t trying to be nice here. “I chose to stay. Me. My choice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Zhengting frowns. He can’t be mad at Wenjun when he looked to sad. He was soft and fragile for this man, broken heart aside. “We can be friends?”

Wenjun looks up, hopeful and Zhengting already wishes he could eat his words. “Thank you.” He says, and he’s grasping Zhengting’s hands. Zhengting is so, so fucked. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Zhengting says weakly, he ignores the crack in his voice. “You’re welcome.

\---

Chengcheng has a shit eating grin on his face when Zhengting enters the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands and Zhengting has half a mind to walk back out. “There’s only one spot left.”

And it’s on the loveseat. With Wenjun.

Zhengting is going to upturn the popcorn on Chengcheng’s head.

Linong smiles from his spot on the bean bag, however and he exclaims excitedly. “I chose Big Hero 6.”

Zhengting’s anger diffuses so fast out of him he feels a little drained after.

“I’m sorry,” Zhengting whispers to Wenjun when he’s settled and the movie’s started. “They’re not very subtle.”

Wenjun’s breath tickles the side of his face when he whispers back. “They make life interesting.”

“Yes.” Quanzhe’s leaning on Zhengting’s leg, and Zhengting plays with his hair absentmindedly. “They do.”

\---

Zhengting hates that it’s so easy to bring Wenjun back in his life. They had been friends before they had dated and they had always been attached to the hip. Being together as a couple only seemed to come naturally. Being friends again after not speaking for a year was easy and comforting and horrible.

Zhengting wanted to die.

“Sleeping on your books isn’t the best study method.” A cup of coffee is placed in front of him and Zhengting lets out a weak sound.

“You’re not the boss of me.” He takes the coffee anyways and drinks it, uttering a small “thank you.”

“What are you working on?”

“Economics and I don’t like it.”

Wenjun lets out a laugh as he grabs Zhengting’s book and turns it towards himself. “I took this class last semester. I could help you out.”

Zhengting suddenly felt okay with failing Economics.

A more rational part of his brain, however, stops him from saying no and running like the hounds of hell were after him. “That would be great.” He says, wanting to slam his head against the table.

\---

Studying with Wenjun was an awful, torturous way to die.

It wasn’t just the fact that Wenjun wore his glasses, or leaned in close to explain concepts to Zhengting’s fossilized shell of a brain. It was the fact that Zhengting’s heart was clenching so very painfully he was sure he was having a heart attack.

“I think I get it now.” Zhengting doesn’t but Wenjun doesn’t need to know that. “Thanks, Wenjun.”

Wenjun just smiles at him in that too pretty way and explains it again.

It’s after Zhengting is absolutely sure he finally gets it and he thoroughly hates himself for being dumb and dragging the study session longer than necessary that Zhengting has the coffee-induced idea to ask. “Do you regret it?”

It had been three months since they had started being friends again and it was really just Zhengting alone wallowing in his feelings. The phantom aches were eating him alive and he hated that he still wanted something so far away. Everything was back to normal. Everything except Zhengting, at least.

“Fuck, wait, no.” He holds his hand up to press against Wenjun’s lips. “Don’t answer that.”

“I do.”

“I said don’t answer that, dumbass.” Zhengting’s ears are hot and he refuses to look at Wenjun in the face.

Wenjun takes Zhengting’s hand from his mouth. “Breaking up with you was the worst thing I have ever done.”

“I’m not listening.”

“I love you.”

“Oh my god.” Zhengting is very much trying to kill Wenjun with his gaze. “Oh my _god,_ you did not just say that.”

Zhengting takes a sharp breath before speaking again. “You can’t do this to me. After a year of me _pining_ over you and our dead relationship. You can’t just make me love you again. _That’s not fair_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, I love you and I’m having a crisis.” Zhengting leans forward and presses his lips, close-mouthed, against Wenjun’s, holds it there are one, two, three seconds before pulling away.

“I hate you so much.” He says, and Wenjun looks dazed. He’s so very terribly fucked. “Kiss me, you asshole.”

And Wenjun obliges.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is from tik tok. this fic is to celebrate me passing my defense and getting my thesis approved yay. i probably wont be active much for a while because i need to be doing some revisions. i love you all i hope you guys enjoyed this word vomit of a fic
> 
> yell at [me](https://twitter.com/zhuzhting)


End file.
